II

Superintendent Harper looked up consideringly at the fa?ade of Braesideas he rang the front door bell.

Neat little villa, nice garden of about an acre and a half. The sort of placethat had been built fairly freely all over the countryside in the last twentyyears. Retired Army men, retired Civil Servants—that type. Nice decentfolk; the worst you could say of them was that they might be a bit dull.

Spent as much money as they could afford on their children’s education.

Not the kind of people you associated with tragedy. And now tragedy hadcome to them. He sighed.

He was shown at once into a lounge where a stiff man with a grey mous-tache and a woman whose eyes were red with weeping both sprang up.

Mrs. Reeves cried out eagerly:

“You have some news of Pamela?”

Then she shrank back, as though the Superintendent’s commiseratingglance had been a blow.

Harper said:

“I’m afraid you must prepare yourself for bad news.”

“Pamela—” faltered the woman.

Major Reeves said sharply:

“Something’s happened—to the child?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you mean she’s dead?”

Mrs. Reeves burst out:

“Oh no, no,” and broke into a storm of weeping. Major Reeves put hisarm round his wife and drew her to him. His lips trembled but he lookedinquiringly at Harper, who bent his head.

“An accident?”

“Not exactly, Major Reeves. She was found in a burnt-out car which hadbeen abandoned in a quarry.”

“In a car? In a quarry?”

His astonishment was evident.

Mrs. Reeves broke down altogether and sank down on the sofa, sobbingviolently.

Superintendent Harper said:

“If you’d like me to wait a few minutes?”

Major Reeves said sharply:

“What does this mean? Foul play?”

“That’s what it looks like, sir. That’s why I’d like to ask you some ques-tions if it isn’t too trying for you.”

“No, no, you’re quite right. No time must be lost if what you suggest istrue. But I can’t believe it. Who would want to harm a child like Pamela?”

Harper said stolidly:

“You’ve already reported to your local police the circumstances of yourdaughter’s disappearance. She left here to attend a Guides rally and youexpected her home for supper. That is right?”

“Yes.”

“She was to return by bus?”

“Yes.”

“I understand that, according to the story of her fellow Guides, when therally was over Pamela said she was going into Danemouth to Woolworth’s,and would catch a later bus home. That strikes you as quite a normal pro-ceeding?”

“Oh yes, Pamela was very fond of going to Woolworth’s. She often wentinto Danemouth to shop. The bus goes from the main road, only about aquarter of a mile from here.”

“And she had no other plans, so far as you know?”

“None.”

“She was not meeting anybody in Danemouth?”

“No, I’m sure she wasn’t. She would have mentioned it if so. We expec-ted her back for supper. That’s why, when it got so late and she hadn’tturned up, we rang up the police. It wasn’t like her not to come home.”

“Your daughter had no undesirable friends—that is, friends that youdidn’t approve of?”

“No, there was never any trouble of that kind.”

Mrs. Reeves said tearfully:

“Pam was just a child. She was very young for her age. She liked gamesand all that. She wasn’t precocious in any way.”

“Do you know a Mr. George Bartlett who is staying at the Majestic Hotelin Danemouth?”

Major Reeves stared.

“Never heard of him.”

“You don’t think your daughter knew him?”

“I’m quite sure she didn’t.”

He added sharply: “How does he come into it?”

“He’s the owner of the Minoan 14 car in which your daughter’s bodywas found.”

Mrs. Reeves cried: “But then he must—”

Harper said quickly:

“He reported his car missing early today. It was in the courtyard of theMajestic Hotel at lunch time yesterday. Anybody might have taken thecar.”

“But didn’t someone see who took it?”

The Superintendent shook his head.

“Dozens of cars going in and out all day. And a Minoan 14 is one of thecommonest makes.”

Mrs. Reeves cried:

“But aren’t you doing something? Aren’t you trying to find the — thedevil who did this? My little girl—oh, my little girl! She wasn’t burnt alive,was she? Oh, Pam, Pam …!”

“She didn’t suffer, Mrs. Reeves. I assure you she was already dead whenthe car was set alight.”

Reeves asked stiffly:

“How was she killed?”

Harper gave him a significant glance.

“We don’t know. The fire had destroyed all evidence of that kind.”

He turned to the distraught woman on the sofa.

“Believe me, Mrs. Reeves, we’re doing everything we can. It’s a matter ofchecking up. Sooner or later we shall find someone who saw your daugh-ter in Danemouth yesterday, and saw whom she was with. It all takestime, you know. We shall have dozens, hundreds of reports coming inabout a Girl Guide who was seen here, there, and everywhere. It’s a mat-ter of selection and of patience—but we shall find out the truth in the end,never you fear.”

Mrs. Reeves asked:

“Where—where is she? Can I go to her?”

Again Superintendent Harper caught the husband’s eye. He said:

“The medical officer is attending to all that. I’d suggest that your hus-band comes with me now and attends to all the formalities. In the mean-time, try and recollect anything Pamela may have said—something, per-haps, that you didn’t pay attention to at the time but which might throwsome light upon things. You know what I mean—just some chance wordor phrase. That’s the best way you can help us.”

As the two men went towards the door, Reeves said, pointing to a photo-graph:

“There she is.”

Harper looked at it attentively. It was a hockey group. Reeves pointedout Pamela in the centre of the team.

“A nice kid,” Harper thought, as he looked at the earnest face of the pig-tailed girl.

His mouth set in a grim line as he thought of the charred body in thecar.

He vowed to himself that the murder of Pamela Reeves should not re-main one of Glenshire’s unsolved mysteries.

Ruby Keene, so he admitted privately, might have asked for what wascoming to her, but Pamela Reeves was quite another story. A nice kid, if heever saw one. He’d not rest until he’d hunted down the man or womanwho’d killed her.